SERAPHINA

CHAPTER 22

Pop smoke ft Lil baby: For the night👆

~The broken may be fixed, but some pieces will never be found ~
~Mina

SERAPHINA'S POV
One year, twelve months, fifty-two weeks, three hundred and sixty-five days,  eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours, to get over Tyler. The most depressing stage of my life.

There were the days I cried myself to sleep.

Endless breakdowns on an empty stomach.

Lost thirty pounds in two weeks.

I felt betrayed, used and trashed.

Insecurity and self-loathe, I battled.

Depression and Post Traumatic Stress, I was diagnosed with.

Admitted to different hospitals. Referred to the world's top psychotherapists. Just mention the name, and I'll tell you the nationality.

Gradually, my condition worsened. My subconscious gradually detached from my body. Trying to find an escape route. The pain was unbearable.

Day by day, I slipped into a partial coma.

And there was the final and most horrendous phase. 

Suicide. Five attempts and one almost successful, but for Asher's intervention.

At the point of no return, I eventually grew numb from all the pain, depression and stress.

From there, it was sleeping in his shirts. Surprisingly, they brought me comfort.

Primarily, it was hard, but as the days passed by, I found it normal sleeping in his clothes. At a point, they started to feel like some random Pajamas I sleep in. Totally casual.

Hope started arising, as I trained myself not to give up on me.

To retrieve my humanity, I resorted to online group therapy and counselling.

Months later, and I was all about myself and well being. Although memory fragments of Tyler still lurked around, I refused to let them overpower me like before.

Despite all the rough and bumpy paths, I became a free bird.

I believed I could do it, and I did.

If anything, one morale I learnt from this remarkable experience was that sometimes breakups weren't meant for make-ups.  Sometimes they were meant for wake-ups.

Today, here I stood, after two years, recalling the memories. Sympathy surged in me, as I watched a friend, follow my footsteps on the same journey.

Miskha repeatedly hit the punching bag until it exploded, sand spreading everywhere. She pushed her hair back and screamed.

"Phina, I think we should go in now," Severina whispered. I sighed and took a deep breath before walking into the gym, Severina following closely behind.

"I only hope I don't lose it," I mumbled.

"You won't. Just stay strong."

I squatted to Miskha's level from where she laid sprawled on the sand, with her back to us. I gently helped her sit up and my heart clenched on seeing her face.

How could one have the heart to hurt such a caring and selfless girl?

"I loved him you know. I still do." She chuckled. I remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her. I was going to help her through this. I've been through the same. So, if anyone understands her better, it's me.